


The Road Home

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5x22 Spoilers, Childbirth, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Light Angst, Mention of Canonical Character Death, Parenthood, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 02:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: Jemma finds Fitz in deep space and brings him home. Once they return, they start on a path towards finally finding their happily ever after. Post-season 5 finale.





	The Road Home

**Author's Note:**

> So anyway, I'm trying to sort and process my emotions about the finale too, and here's just the start of that. Big thanks to ukthxbye and sciendere for looking it over and assuring me it's not complete garbage, but any mistakes and bad handwaving are still mine all mine. Hope you guys enjoy this take on a happy ending that Fitzsimmons deserve.

The world had come to an end after all.

At least, that’s how it felt to Jemma. She thought she had known grief, on Maveth, faced with the certainty that she would never see Fitz again. But this was something else entirely. Now she had hard, undeniable proof in front of her that he was gone and never coming back: his broken, lifeless body on the floor of the Zephyr’s cargo bay, unmoving, May and Yo-Yo kneeling next to him with tear tracks on their faces.

She’d pushed past Mack in the lab and run the entire way to him, collapsing to her knees at his side and grasping at his shoulders, but he hadn’t opened his eyes. She’d taken his face in her hands and begged him to wake up, to come back to her, but he hadn’t listened. She’d broken down into sobs then, hunched over him, feeling like she was being crushed by a terrible, unbearable weight, ripped apart by heartbreak she couldn’t even fathom. They’d saved the world, but what good was it for her if she had to go on without him? Where was the meaning in anything without the man she’d called her life, her heart, her home?

They’d had plans. Dreams they’d whispered about together, late at night in their bunk at the Lighthouse, things they’d wanted to do once they’d prevented the Earth from being destroyed. And now... now, none of it would ever be realized.

Jemma didn’t know how long she stayed there, crying into Fitz’s chest in vain. She was aware of people moving around them, the sound of someone else crying, a hand tugging at her shoulder that she ignored. When she finally lifted her head, feeling drained and numb and utterly bereft, the only person there was Mack, a stricken expression on his face.

She wiped at the tears on her cheeks and slowly stood up. “Help me get him to the lab,” she said quietly.

Mack nodded, coming forward to gently pick Fitz up and carry him through the Zephyr. He looked so small in Mack’s arms, so diminished, and Jemma blinked back another swell of grief. It wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have to see him like this.

In the lab, she directed Mack to lay Fitz on a bed on the far side of the room from Coulson. He hovered for a moment like he wanted to stay and offer help or support, but when she began to sort through her tools without acknowledging him, he reluctantly left.

Once they were alone, save for a sleeping Coulson, Jemma lovingly washed the blood and dust away from Fitz’s face and hands and stitched up his wounds. Then she simply sat by him for a long time, holding his hand in hers and running her fingers through his hair, just watching him. His face looked so peaceful in death, more relaxed than she had seen it in a long, long time, and she supposed that it was a small mercy; finally, he was at rest. But she selfishly wished he hadn’t left her behind to find it.

Eventually, she folded his hands over his stomach. Then she leaned forward to kiss his lips. They were cold.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Always.”

She shut herself away in the bunk they usually shared, lying down on the narrow bed and staring blankly at the wall. Her heart felt like an aching gulf had taken its place, draining all color and feeling from the world surrounding it. How was she supposed to go on? Fitz had been a constant in her life ever since she was sixteen years old. She quite literally didn’t know how to live without him. She didn’t even know where to start, and she didn’t want to.

Some time later, there was a knock on the door. She ignored it. Another knock came, followed by May’s muffled voice calling, “Simmons?”

She ignored that, too.

There were a few more knocks before she heard footsteps retreating away into silence. She was glad for the reprieve. But a few minutes later she felt a small rumble and heard the doorknob rattle before the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Jemma looked up to find May standing in the doorway along with Daisy, whose eyes were puffy and bloodshot. When they made eye contact, May came forward into the room and held out a single sheet of paper to her.

“Robin wanted me to give you this,” she said quietly.

Nonplussed, Jemma reached out to take it from her and look at it. It was a child’s drawing, crudely done, of what appeared to be a man sitting on a table with a woman standing next to him. A window was drawn to one side, filled with stars. She studied it for a moment, then shook her head.

“I... I don’t understand,” she mumbled.

May just nodded at it. “Keep looking.”

She looked back down at the drawing. The table wasn’t so much of a table, really, but some kind of--box?--and the lid was open, with the man sitting up from the inside. He had a hand outstretched to the woman, who was reaching out for him in turn. Both figures had brown hair, and the woman had hers pulled back, like she herself often did. Her eyes jumped back and forth between the two characters for a moment, her mind itching, before she suddenly thought--

“Fitz,” she gasped, her heart turning over painfully in her chest. “He--he told me he was put into cryosleep in order to reach us in the future, that he took the long way there, so that means--”

“That he’s still out there right now,” May finished with a nod, a familiar glint in her eyes. “Alive. And you’re going to find him.”

-:-

Later, she stood where they’d buried him, her fingers worrying over his wedding band where it hung from a delicate chain around her neck, the breeze coming in off the lake catching her hair and whipping it around her face.

“I’m going to find you,” she said, looking down at the plain stone marker. _Leopold James Fitz, Beloved Husband, Friend, and Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D._ “It’s only goodbye for a little while. I’ll bring you home soon.”

She had the resolve and the commitment, but it was a tough thing to carry in her heart at the moment when all she felt was deep grief and heartache still, when all she longed for was the comfort and reassurance of his presence. But if she could stay focused, she could find him. Fitz was out there waiting for her, and he would be so relieved to know they’d solved the problem of saving the world. Everything else would come in time--explaining the loop, his death, what he’d missed. But first, she had to let this Fitz go. And it was a terrifying prospect. She could only hope she was strong enough told hold on and see her mission through.

-:-

“Confirming we’ve got a ship in orbit around the planet. Pulling in closer and attempting to make contact.”

Jemma peered through the cockpit windows of the Zephyr and out into the inky blackness of space, feeling her heart begin to race. Through hit and miss, they’d eventually identified Neptune as being the most likely candidate for the planet Fitz had been sent to based off what he’d told Jemma in the future. It loomed large in front of them now, and there was a small blip just visible floating below the inner rings. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but it was already too late: the pieces added up, all of her research and notes, everything Hunter had been able to tell them as well. Months of searching had come down to this: Fitz was finally within her reach.

She took a step back to return to the command deck, getting ready for the possibility of boarding. They were working with a skeleton crew; with Coulson gone, S.H.I.E.L.D. felt stretched thin. Davis, who had adapted rather admirably to space flight, was in the pilot’s seat, and Mack was monitoring communications along with a few other agents. May, Daisy, Piper, and Yo-Yo had remained at the Lighthouse back on Earth to oversee operations there. With any luck, they would soon be returning to them with Fitz in tow.

Mack looked up as she approached, twisting her hands together anxiously, and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Jemma,” he said. “I think this is it. We’ll have him back before you know it.”

Jemma nodded, taking in a breath to calm her nerves. “I know. I can feel it. It’s just…” She trailed off, shaking her head, unsure if she should put voice to her thoughts. But she did, because it was Mack, and she knew he would understand. “I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him again.”

How would she feel when faced with a Fitz who was healthy and whole, but hadn’t lived through the things they’d endured in the future together, who hadn’t faced the end of the world with her? She looked down at her wedding ring, which she hadn’t been able to take off, and frowned slightly. She wasn’t even engaged to this Fitz yet.

“We’re good to go,” Davis called from the cockpit, causing them to look up. He was grinning back at them. “Talked to some guy named Enoch and he confirmed he’s got Fitz with him. Docking now.”

They felt the Zephyr shudder and shake as it began the docking sequence, and Jemma turned to Mack again, her heart in her throat. His smile widened, and he reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go get our man.”

She followed Mack through the halls of the Zephyr until they reached the airlock hatch. When Davis came over the comm and told them they were free to open the hatch, Mack stepped forward to do so and let them through.

On the other side they found Enoch, standing straight and tall in a black suit similar to the one Noah had worn, and he inclined his head at them as they boarded the ship. His gaze went straight to Jemma.

“Ah, you must be Jemma Simmons,” he said pleasantly, and Jemma remembered that this was an Enoch who had not properly met her. Then he looked at Mack. “And you are Alphonso Mackenzie. I knew you would come. I have been monitoring events on Earth and know that you were able to prevent the extinction-level event that would have destroyed your planet, and I know that Agent Fitz did not survive. I have been waiting here, anticipating your arrival.”

Next to her, Mack shifted. “If you knew we broke the loop, why didn’t you just bring him back?”

“My role is to observe, not to interact or interfere,” Enoch replied. “I knew that you--” He nodded at Jemma. “Would come looking for him, so here I stayed.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Jemma blurted, “Where is he?”

Enoch smiled slightly, unaffected by her outburst. “Follow me.”

He led them deeper into the ship, down a short corridor and around a corner, into a room with a viewport looking out into space set into the far wall. In the center of the room was a nondescript gray pod. It looked just like Robin’s drawing. As she came closer, Jemma saw there was a small window on top, frosted over, and as she looked inside, she could barely make out--

Her breath caught in her throat. There was Fitz, perfectly still, eyes closed and face pale. He looked so much like he did the last time she’d seen him that emotion surged within her, everything she’d been holding inside since the day he’d died. A small sob escaped her throat as tears pricked at her eyes, and she felt Mack’s hand on her shoulder again, squeezing gently.

Enoch came around the other side of the pod and pressed a few buttons on the control panel set just beneath the window. With a final beep, the ice rimming the glass began to dissipate, color came back into Fitz’s cheeks, and suddenly--with a small intake of breath--his eyes opened.

Jemma gasped along with him, and in her eagerness to reach him, pressed her hands to the top of the pod, leaning over it. But Mack pulled her back, getting her out of the way so Enoch could lift the lid of the pod.

She watched, barely able to breathe, as Enoch helped Fitz to sit up and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “Is it time already?” Fitz asked, his voice scratchy, and she felt her knees go weak just at the sound of him.

“In a way, yes,” Enoch replied. “Events on Earth have changed, and it is no longer in danger of being destroyed. Your friends are safe. There is no need for you to travel to the future.”

Fitz blinked up at him in confusion. “What?” Then he looked past Enoch and his gaze caught on Jemma and Mack. He did a double-take, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening. “J-Jemma?” he stammered.

The tears that had sprung to her eyes at the sight of him spilled over, and Jemma swallowed past the lump that had risen in her throat at hearing him say her name--something she had thought she’d never have again. She let out another quiet sob and nodded, heedless of the tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m here, Fitz,” she said. She stepped forward, unable to keep from reaching out for him, and when her hands touched his face, feeling the familiar texture of his beard and the softness of his skin, her breath hitched again.

Fitz gaped at her, his mouth working silently. He glanced up at Enoch, then back to her, looking utterly lost. “What--what happened, Jemma, what’s wrong?” he asked, lifting a hand to brush away some of her tears.

Jemma breathed out a wet laugh and tried to smile for him despite her tears, wanting him to know that she was truly happy and grateful beyond words to see him. “It’s a long story,” she managed, her voice wobbling a little.

Fitz nodded slowly, as if he were trying to understand. Then he reached up to catch her hand at his cheek to pull it down, but when he saw the ring on her finger his entire body went stiff, what little color he had draining from his face. “You’re--you’re married,” he said hoarsely, horror unmistakable in his voice. ““How long was I gone?”

“Only a few months,” Jemma replied. When his face fell even more in confused hurt, she rushed to add, “This is yours! This--” She squeezed her hand in his, the metal of her wedding ring pressing into his skin. “This came from _you_. Well, technically, it came from Deke. But you put it on my finger.”

Fitz only blinked at her. “Deke…?”

Jemma smiled gently at him. “All part of that long story,” she whispered.

“We should get him back to the Zephyr,” Mack said from behind her. For a moment, she’d forgotten that anyone else was even in the room with them. “Turbo, can you walk?”

Fitz looked past her to Mack, then swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He rose to his feet, and when he swayed slightly, Jemma took one of his hands to steady him. Then she bundled his blanket tighter around his shoulders before leading him from the room and back toward the Zephyr, leaving Mack behind to tie up any loose ends with Enoch.

Fitz was silent as Jemma led him through the corridors in the direction of the bunks, looking around them at the walls, no doubt wondering how in the hell the Zephyr had managed to become spaceworthy--and oh, how she couldn’t wait to tell him, that it had been through his own clever design. He stayed quiet as she pulled him into the bunk they usually shared together, as she sat him down on the narrow bed and fussed with the lights, dimming them a bit so the harsh brightness wouldn’t hurt his eyes. She could feel him watching her, and she knew he must have so many questions, but she wasn’t even sure where to start.

“Are you warming up any?” she asked as she turned back to him, trying to inject some cheer into her voice. She couldn’t cry anymore, not when he didn’t understand why. It would only confuse and upset him.

He nodded, his eyes tracking her movements as she briskly rubbed her hands over his shoulders, above the blanket.

“Do you need anything?” she continued, fighting the urge to run her fingers through his hair, over his cheek, down his nose. “Food, something to drink?”

This time Fitz shook his head and reached out to catch one of her hands between his. “Jemma…” He tugged her forward until she was forced to sit down next to him. Then he looked at her for a moment, her cheeks still damp with tears, and said, “What happened? I was on my way to save you... Enoch said you fixed everything? How did you get back? I thought…” He looked down at the ring on her finger, his thumb bumping against it. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Jemma swallowed, shoring up her courage. “There’s a lot to tell,” she said quietly. “And it’s a lot to wrap your head around.”

Fitz gave her the smallest of smiles. “I’m listening.”

So she told him. She told him how he slept for almost eighty years and found them in the future, how he played the part of a rogue to perfection and saved both her and Daisy from enslavement. She told him about how he helped them find a way back home by figuring out how to use the time machine Deke’s father had built, using Fitz’s own schematics and the fragment of the monolith Deke’s mother had kept. She told him about their wedding, how perfect it had been in a conjured sunlit forest clearing. She told him how he had worked tirelessly to prevent the end of the world and how, in the end, he had given everything he had to make sure they succeeded. He had given up his own life.

She somehow managed not to cry at all during her story, though it was a close one: her voice grew thick and she often had to stop toward the end, swallowing back the threat of tears before she could continue on. Fitz listened quietly as she spoke, and when she was finished, didn’t say anything for a long few moments, instead looking down at her hand still in his, his thumb brushing back and forth over her knuckles.

“I was going to do it, you know,” he finally said, and for a breathtaking second Jemma was transported to another bunk, another bed on a plane where she and Fitz had sat together and he had said those very same words. It felt like lifetimes ago, and things were so different now. They had both changed, so much. She blinked, and her Fitz was back in front of her, scruffy and pale and quiet. He looked back up at her, a faint smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “I was going to ask you to marry me,” he continued, “as soon as I found you.”

Jemma found herself smiling back, her eyes still watery. “So ask me,” she said.

Fitz blinked. “What?”

“Ask me,” she repeated. “I had a device implanted in my ear when you asked the first time, and I couldn’t hear you. I--I want you to ask. Properly.”

Fitz sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I--I had a whole speech planned, I went over it hundreds of times in my head while I was in prison, I wanted it to be perfect--”

“It will be,” Jemma insisted. “No matter how you say it.” When he didn’t look quite convinced, she added, “You know what my answer will be.”

Fitz was quiet for another moment, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking through a particularly tough problem. Then he shifted to take both of her hands in his, squeezing them, and looked up at her. “Jemma Simmons,” he whispered, his eyes blazing with emotion, “will you marry me?”

A sharp thrill raced down Jemma’s spine at actually being able to hear him speak the words, and her face split on a breathless smile as she nodded fervently. “Yes,” she whispered back, and her heart burned as Fitz’s face lit up in obvious relief and joy. “Yes, I will.”

Then she was moving without thinking, and Fitz was too, and they met in the middle in a perfect kiss: a little desperate, heartfelt, and longing, each for their own reasons. One of his hands came up to cup her cheek as their lips slid together, and the gesture was so sweet and tender and _missed_ that something inside of her broke, and before she knew it she was crying, tears that turned into whimpers that dissolved into sobs. Fitz let go of her to pull her into his lap, the blanket falling from his shoulders, and wrapped his arms tight around her, rocking them gently back and forth.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered into her hair, over and over, as her tears soaked his shirt. “I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jemma.”

They stayed that way for a long time, Jemma crying herself out and Fitz murmuring quiet reassurances. It hurt her in an unexpected way to hear him apologize, because he had done nothing wrong, and as she gradually began to calm down, she resolved that she would make sure he knew that. Maybe it was time to take to heart what she had told Coulson, before she’d started her search--to let go of her grief, to take it and lock it away in a corner of her heart. Not forgotten, but compartmentalized, to be visited from time to time in memoriam of what had been. She had Fitz back, and he didn’t deserve to live in the shadow of the man that had come before him.

She could never forget the Fitz that she had married, that she had loved and stood by through some incredibly low times, and who had stood by her. This was the same Fitz, just rewound a little. He was still the same man she loved. She had been given a miraculous opportunity to cheat death and she wasn’t going to waste it by pining for a man who was no longer there.

They had been given a chance to start over fresh. She knew what demons haunted him and how to help him. She wouldn’t let him bear the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. This time, they would get it right.

-:-

It took them over a week to make the journey back to Earth from deep space. The Zephyr was capable of space flight, but didn’t have anything on the order of a lightspeed drive to shorten their journey. Jemma never strayed very far from Fitz, silently keeping to her previous promise never to leave his side. If he thought she was being clingy, he didn’t show it. She took him around the plane and showed him the modifications that had been made to make her spaceworthy, and she told him about the time loop in a little more detail. Fitz seemed to take it all in stride.

He was surprised but glad to see Davis, who he thought had died at AIDA’s hand. He was also relieved to hear that they’d managed to gain forgiveness from the government and were no longer on every national and international most-wanted list. He asked a lot of questions about the world and what he had missed, but he didn’t ask very many about himself. Jemma didn’t know if he was afraid to know or if he genuinely didn’t care, and she found she was hesitant to bring the subject up herself. She truly meant to let the past lie, and keep herself focused on what she had in the here and now, but she had to admit to herself that _she_ was afraid to tell him, lest she make things awkward. But if he wasn’t going to ask, she wouldn’t tell.

They spent their nights twined together on the small bed in their bunk, Fitz wound around her back with his arm snug over her waist, and Jemma gradually let herself relax, allowing herself to find comfort and peace in having him close again. She could tell Fitz was doing the same, from the way his hold on her went from almost suffocatingly tight the first night to something a little less desperate as the week wore on.

It made sense, she thought. To him, he’d been without her roughly the same amount of time she’d been without him. In the future, he’d told her that he’d been locked away in prison for six months, and it had taken them almost as long to find him out in space. And he’d had no clue where she was, if she was alive, and was under the strain of solitary confinement. She’d at least had the support of her team. Jemma didn’t want to play the comparison game, but she thought they’d both rather suffered through enough by now. One day, it was going to have to end.

On the night before they were scheduled to reach the Lighthouse, Fitz and Jemma went back to their bunk early. Fitz was lying on his back on the bed with Jemma curled along his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair when she broke the relatively comfortable silence that had settled between them.

“I think we should leave S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said quietly.

His hand in her hair stopped, and she could feel Fitz look down at her. “What?”

Jemma took one breath in and let it out slowly. “We talked about it a little, before, me and you... him.” She stared at her hand resting on his chest. “About how it might be time to leave, before the universe had another opportunity to rip us apart again. We... we swore that once we broke the loop, once we saved the world, we would sit down and really talk about it.” She swallowed back the shadow of grief that threatened to rise up. “We never got that chance.”

When Fitz didn’t answer after a moment, she craned her neck to look up and him, and found him with a thoughtful expression on his face. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” she said, feeling a small vein of anxiety thread its way through her. What if there _was_ a difference between this Fitz and the one she had lost? “But I really think--”

“No, no, I do.” Fitz blinked himself out of his reverie and shifted so he could better look down at her. “For a long time now, the only thing that’s kept me with S.H.I.E.L.D. has been you, and our team. Our family. But if you’re ready to leave... I’m with you. All the way.” His fingers tangled in her hair, cupping the back of her head as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then rested his against hers. “I think they’ll understand. I know…” He took in a shuddering breath. “I know I’ve missed out on a lot. But even without all of that, we’ve already been through so much. I think we’ve earned a break, don’t you?”

Jemma nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. She didn’t want to cry anymore. “I think we have,” she whispered.

Fitz smiled at her, then leaned in to kiss her properly, soft and sweet. She sank into it, curling her fingers into his shirt and drinking him in, once again feeling so unspeakably grateful and thankful to have him back. The kiss felt like a promise, a seal: that they would actually find their happily ever after, and the relief of having it so close within reach left Jemma feeling weightless, lighter than she had in weeks.

-:-

When they finally landed at the Lighthouse, everyone was there to welcome Fitz home. He walked down the ramp of the Zephyr with alert eyes, taking in the roaring waterfall that encircled most of the hangar bay with a look of faint wonder that Jemma feared he’d lost.

Yo-Yo was at the head of the group waiting for them, and she held her arms out to Fitz first, much to Mack’s amusement. “It’s good to have you back,” she said warmly, folding Fitz into a hug.

“It’s good to _be_ back,” he said, giving her a light squeeze before stepping back. He nodded at her metal-rimmed fingers. “Um. Nice arms.”

Jemma bit down a smile. She’d told Fitz about Yo-Yo’s injury and how he’d repurposed the robot Mack had brought back from the _Principia_ to give her new, cybernetic arms. He’d accepted that as he had most things that she’d told him, with a nod and a thoughtful expression. Seeing him able to joke about it now was hopeful.

Yo-Yo’s smile widened. “I got them from an excellent engineer,” she said, before stepping past him to greet Mack. That left Fitz facing Daisy.

“Hey Fitz,” she said quietly, carefully leaning into the hug he gave her. But the embrace wasn’t as tight as it once might have been, and her smile wasn’t as bright as he might have expected.

Jemma could practically feel the question radiating off of him in waves, and when he let go of her, Fitz said cautiously, “How’ve you been?”

Daisy licked her lips and glanced away for a moment, her eyes flicking briefly over to Jemma. “I’m fine. I’m making it. It’s just, you know, it’s been rough without Coulson.”

Fitz nodded, looking around as if keenly feeling the absence of their late director, and blew out a breath. “Yeah. Jemma told me. I can’t believe he’s just... _gone_.”

Daisy nodded too, forcing a smile, then took a step away from him. “Hey, I know there’s a lot more people who want to say hello, so--” She gestured behind her. “I’ll let you get to it.”

As he did with everything else, Fitz nodded with a faint smile. “Thanks.” Then he hesitated slightly. “I’m really glad to see you.”

Daisy’s smile softened slightly. “I’m glad to see you too, Fitz.”

He didn’t say anything else about it as he finished saying his hellos, or as Jemma took him on a brief tour of the Lighthouse. It was only once they were securely shut away in her-- _their_ \--bunk--that Fitz turned to her and asked, “Is Daisy okay? She seemed... off. And I think it was because of me, not Coulson.”

Jemma sighed, looking down and twisting her hands together. There were some things she hadn’t told him; for instance, she hadn’t told him the full truth about Deke, and she hadn’t told him what he had done to Daisy in order to get her powers back. Some things she felt were better left unsaid, especially when those involved had vanished, and other things she felt weren’t her story to tell. But seeing Fitz standing there, looking hurt and confused, she found herself wanting to reassure him somehow.

So she told him, about how the fear rift had been growing out of control, and how stress, exhaustion, and untreated trauma had caused him to crack and do the unthinkable. She told him about Daisy’s anger and feelings of betrayal and her promise to never forgive him. She told him how the team had begun to fragment under the pressure of their mission to save the world.

Fitz sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his face a mask of horror and revulsion, as though he couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and in the silence that stretched out between them, Jemma came and sat next to him, ready to offer what support and comfort she could.

Finally he shook his head, letting out a trembling breath. “I--I wouldn’t--I would _never_ ,” he said fiercely, and Jemma’s heart broke a little at the conviction in his voice. “But--” He looked up at her, his expression twisting. “She’s angry at me for something I haven’t even done.”

Jemma picked up one of his hands, threading her fingers through his. “She’s not mad at _you_ ,” she said slowly, treading delicately. “But some things are hard to let go of, and she’s trying. She just needs time.”

As always, Fitz simply nodded, and not for the first time, she wished for some insight into what was going on in his mind, what he thought about every time he learned something new about the life and the world he had missed. But he didn’t say anything else, instead just staring at his hand in hers, and Jemma, desperate for something to lighten the mood, seized on the first thing she could think of.

“It’s been a long few weeks,” she said, injecting some cheer into her voice. “And it’s been even longer for you. What do you think about taking a nice, long shower in a real bathroom with real, hot water?”

That brought a soft but genuine laugh out of him, and Fitz looked up at her, a small smile curving his lips. “You’re talking to a man who’s just come straight from half a year of solitary confinement in military prison. A hot shower? You won’t have to ask me twice.”

Even though the reminder of Fitz’s incarceration made her stomach twist, Jemma was still smiling as she stood, pulling Fitz to his feet after her. “In fact,” she added, letting her voice turn a little coy, “I can even join you, if you like. The stall’s big enough for both of us.”

A pleased thrill ran down her spine at the way Fitz’s eyes darkened in interest, and he let his hands settle on her waist as he stepped in close to her. “I can’t think of anything better,” he murmured, and leaned down to kiss her, his woes momentarily forgotten.

-:-

Jemma married Fitz for the second time in a small ceremony that managed to be just as perfect, if not better, than the first one. Their family was able to attend, and so was Yo-Yo, something that made it infinitely precious to her. Watching Fitz walk toward her under a canopy of green leaves in a sunlit forest had been magical, but there was also something to be said for the way her heart did flips in her chest at his expression when he first caught sight of her as her father walked her up the short aisle to join him.

And that was how she kept herself present and joyful in the moment instead of reliving what had come before: by seeing the wedding through Fitz’s eyes, remembering that it was all a series of firsts for him. The first time he took her hands in his, the first time he looked her in the eyes and said his vows with steady eyes but trembling lips. The first time he watched her in awe as she said her own vows. The first time he slipped a ring on her finger and pulled her close to kiss her, sealing their commitment to each other for the rest of their lives. The first time they turned to their friends and family as husband and wife, and the sheer happiness that broke over his face which was enough to take her breath away.

It was those things which kept Jemma grounded. As they turned in slow circles in the middle of the small banquet room of the manor house her parents had booked, swaying gently to the music that played over the speakers, her cheek pressed to his shoulder and his resting on her hair, she reflected on how lucky they were. They had beat the ocean, space, time, alternate realities, and now death, just to be together. What more could they do? What else was there left to defy? She didn’t want to find out. And that was why they were leaving.

As the festivities were winding down and Fitz was off talking to his mother, Daisy cornered Jemma as she was getting another glass of champagne.

“Hey,” she said, looking distinctly anxious. “I just wanted you to know--you know I’m happy for you, right? The both of you. Really happy. I mean it--I promise.”

Jemma tilted her head at her, frowning slightly. “I do know that. You’ve said it before.” Daisy had told her after she’d brought Fitz back, and again before the ceremony.

Daisy clenched her hands, glancing away briefly. “Yeah,” she said, “I’ve said it to _you_. And it’s just--I know it’s not fair, taking it out on him because _he_ didn’t do anything, but--he _looks_ like him.” She huffed a short, sour laugh. “Obviously, because he _is_ him, but you know what I mean, right? All I see when I look at him is _him_ , and what he looked like when…” She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “And I’m still so angry. But I don’t know what to do with it now. But I still... I want you guys to be happy. If there’s anyone who deserves it after all the shit you’ve been through, it’s you two.”

Jemma’s expression softened. “I think you should tell him that.”

“I can’t.” Daisy shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe soon... but not now.” She gave her a small, apologetic smile, before squeezing her arm and walking away.

Jemma watched her go, and was lightly startled a minute later when Fitz appeared at her side, sliding an arm around her waist. “How’s Daisy?” he asked quietly. He’d resigned himself to their relationship being strained, even though he’d done nothing to cause it. Jemma knew it hurt him more than he let on, but she didn’t know how to help ease things between the two of them.

“She’s fine,” she replied. “Just relaying her well-wishes.”

Fitz nodded and looked around the room, at the people who were left, standing and talking in small groups. “I just wish Coulson were here,” he said quietly, after a moment. “Feels strange not to have him here.”

Jemma nodded. “I know.” It was the only thing that made this wedding slightly dimmer than the first. She thought of the video she had on her phone of her first wedding, which Fitz knew she had, but hadn’t asked to see yet. Maybe one day he would, and could see how important a role Coulson had played the first time around.

Then she looked down at her left hand, and the shining new band that sat nestled next to her first wedding ring on her finger. She hadn’t felt like she could ask Fitz to give her another man’s ring, even if that man was him, and he hadn’t wanted her to feel like she had to give it up. So she chose to wear both. Fitz had a new ring as well; her first husband’s ring stayed on the necklace she’d kept it on for months, until they could think of something proper and fitting to do with it.

-:-

“I never thought we’d get here, you know.”

Jemma looked up at Fitz from where she was reclining against his chest, to find him staring thoughtfully into the distance. She followed his gaze, back across the room and out the patio doors, which were flung wide open to let the sea breeze in. Beyond them, she could see palm trees and, even further out, dazzling white sand and the clear crystal blue of the ocean sparkling in the morning sun. The distant roar of the surf was the only noise that filtered into their little bungalow, making it feel as if they were isolated, far away from anything that could possibly disturb them. Lying there in the middle of an enormous bed amongst a multitude of plush pillows, beneath a gauzy white blanket, Jemma couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so content.

Watching Fitz, seeing his eyes track over the scenery outside the door without really seeing it, she murmured, “No?”

He sighed. “Well, I mean, I’d _hoped_ , but--” He glanced down at her and shrugged his free shoulder. “Didn’t think we’d _actually_ make it.”

Jemma smiled slightly and settled back down on his chest, absently drawing small circles over his heart with her fingers. “Me neither, honestly. I’ve only been planning this trip in my head for years, but things kept getting in the way. First we decided to go into the field, then there was Hydra, then I got swallowed by a rock--”

Fitz made a sudden huffing noise, shifting on the bed and upsetting her from her comfortable position resting against him. “Wait, what?” he said, rolling so he was on his side but propped up on an elbow, looking down at her. His expression was comically betrayed. “ _Years_?! You mean this wasn’t a trip you dreamt up as an excuse to get into my pants after we got together?”

Jemma laughed and lightly swatted his chest. “I’ve been wanting to go on a proper holiday with you ever since we took that one weekend trip together back at SciOps. Of course, back then my intentions were rather more educational--”

“And probably involved more clothes,” Fitz murmured, looking over all of her bare skin exposed to him.

“And involved a lot more clothing,” Jemma agreed, inclining her head at him. “But I won’t deny, even then I was interested in seeing you in beach wear.”

He gave her a bemused look. “Now I know you’re having a laugh,” he said. “Me, in swim trunks? Especially back then?” He sniffed. “Right.”

Jemma’s jaw dropped. “I did!” she insisted, poking his chest again. “And I wasn’t laughing at you yesterday, if you’ll remember! I’ve always thought you were handsome. A bit pasty, maybe, but handsome.”

“Yeah, alright, I get it--pasty but handsome.” Fitz was rolling his eyes, but his smile gave him away. “Your flattery will get you everywhere.”

“That’s my plan,” Jemma teased, reaching up to take his face in her hands and tug him down until she could plant kisses along his jaw and cheeks, reveling in the scratch of his beard beneath her lips and fingers. He hummed softly as she kissed over his chin, and she couldn’t help but smile at how relaxed, how _normal_ it all felt. “If I tell you how good your bum looked in your trunks, do I--”

Suddenly Fitz rolled to pin her to the mattress, trapping her between his arms and peppering her face with kisses. Jemma let out a small shriek of surprise that turned into laughter as his mouth found her neck, that turned into a sigh as he then caught her lips with his in a proper kiss. As he shifted above her to fully cover her body with his and their kiss delved deeper, Jemma thought that if every moment could be as easy and carefree as this, then they really could have hope for their future.

-:-

Shortly after they returned from the Seychelles, Fitz and Jemma packed up what little they owned and moved to a small cottage in the Scottish countryside, about an hour’s drive outside Perth. It had seen better days and needed a little love and care, but Jemma had fallen in love with its vintage charm and Fitz considered the renovation a good direction to put his energy in. Piper teased them about the stereotype of home remodeling being the beast that drove happy couples apart, but Mack told her to be quiet.

“There’s not a damn thing that can tear these two apart,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and looking almost proud.

Privately, Jemma didn’t dare tempt fate like that anymore, but she was glad for his vote of confidence all the same. Their goodbye wasn’t without tears, and while leaving their team behind left an ache in her heart, she would have been lying if she said a part of her wasn’t glad to be free. Without the specter of danger and death hanging over their heads every day, maybe they could finally both begin to heal from years’ worth of constant trauma, together.

Once they were unpacked in their new home and had run to the local village grocer to stock their pantry, Fitz found Jemma in the kitchen plugging in the electric kettle for tea. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest and nuzzling his nose into her cheek. “I think getting away was a good idea,” he said quietly.

Jemma slotted her fingers in between his and relaxed against him. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I... I could see the way everyone around the base was looking at me. Like--like they were waiting on me to say something or act a certain way. Be someone I’m not.”

Something uneasy settled in Jemma’s stomach, and she squeezed her hand over his. “Fitz--”

“I see you do it sometimes too,” he added hesitantly, and his tone sounded strangely apologetic. “I don’t think you mean to, but... you do.”

Shame lanced through her, hot and thick. She twisted in his arms to look up at him, and found that he was smiling sadly at her. It broke her heart, the idea that he didn’t think he was enough, or lacking somehow. “Fitz,” she whispered, resting her hands on his chest, “I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself. You know that, right?” When he slowly nodded, she continued, “I’m trying, but there are... certain things I’ll never be able to forget. I might want to, but it’s through no fault of yours that I can’t. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to live up to some sort of ridiculous ideal I have in my head.”

Fitz’s smile turned a little softer, more genuine, and he reached up to wrap his fingers around hers. “I know you love me,” he said. “As for everyone else... I’ve already struggled to live up to people's expectations for me once in my life. I think some time away to figure out who I’m supposed to be now outside of them might be for the best.”

Jemma nodded, shifting their hands so she could pull his toward her and press a kiss to his knuckles. “I think so, too. And I promise to get rid of any expectations I might have before they even begin to form.”

Fitz huffed a quiet laugh and tipped his forehead into hers. “Thanks.”

She smiled up at him, but the moment was broken by the beep of the kettle on the counter next to them. It wasn’t loud, but it was still enough to startle them in the quiet of their kitchen, and Jemma yelped as she fell forward into Fitz’s arms. Then they were both laughing, struggling to hold each other upright as they both as they got their wits about them again.

“If that’s the only kind of scare we have to deal with around here,” Fitz wheezed, “I think we’ll be okay.”

“Likewise,” Jemma agreed, wiping away a stray tear of mirth.

Still chuckling, Fitz let go of her to reach up into one of the cabinets to pull down two of the new mugs they’d bought. “Go on, go sit down. I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Fitz.” Jemma gave his arm a grateful squeeze before turning to head for the living room. She was looking forward to spending their first evening in their new home curled up on their overstuffed couch, drinking tea, reading their tablets, and watching the news like any other ordinary couple, for the first time in years.

-:-

One of the first things Jemma did after they got settled in Perthshire was find a therapist willing to take both her and Fitz on. It meant weekly drives into the city at first, but to her, it was more than worth it. Fitz was a little hesitant to begin with. He insisted that he was fine and didn’t want to talk to anyone, but Jemma knew otherwise. She’d seen the consequences of letting him go without help, and she wasn’t going to fail him again. He didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore, but he’d never had a chance to recover from the trauma the Framework had wrought on him, and spending half a year locked up in solitary confinement hadn’t done him any favors in that regard, either.

This time, she was committed to seeing he received the help he needed--the help they both needed, honestly. She had her own wealth of issues to deal with, too. Knowing that Jemma was going to sessions as well slowly warmed Fitz up to the idea, and eventually he stopped grumbling about having to go. He rarely talked about what he and Dr. Armstrong discussed during their appointments, and sometimes he came out looking worse than when he went in, but over time Jemma could see that it was having a positive effect. A layer of tension that she hadn’t fully realized blanketed him lifted. He became less prone to drifting off into moody silences. He smiled more. And, perhaps most relieving of all, he didn’t mutter to himself as much.

“You would tell me if you heard him, wouldn’t you?” she asked one day as they were driving home.

“Hmm?” Fitz glanced over at her before turning his attention back to the road, his hands loose on the steering wheel.

Jemma shifted in her seat slightly. “I know you’ve been hearing his voice in your head. The Doctor. You would tell me if it became too much, right? If he started to drown you out?”

He was quiet for a long minute, his expression contemplative like it usually was after a counseling session. Then he said, quietly, “It hasn’t been that bad, honestly. Not like it was... before. Before you found me. Being here has helped a lot.” He sighed and flexed his fingers over the steering wheel before shooting her a small smile. “I’d tell you, I promise.”

She smiled back, relaxing a little into her seat. “Good.”

Outside of therapy, their lives settled into a comfortable sense of normalcy. They had a modest income from patents that Fitz had filed both before his time with S.H.I.E.L.D. and during (and which Daisy had freed access to while she worked on re-legitimizing them) that meant they didn’t have to immediately find jobs, and which kept them comfortable and able to work on upgrades to their cottage. Contrary to Piper’s teasing, the renovations didn’t cause any friction in their relationship. Instead, they found a great deal of satisfaction in installing new kitchen cabinets and stripping down old, outdated wallpaper and applying fresh coats of paint. Fitz was energetic about putting in new appliances and building bookshelves for their living room. He told her it was a good way to keep his hands busy and be useful without creating new technology--something that, he confessed, caused him a fair bit of anxiety now.

Once upon a time, Jemma never would have guessed that domestic simplicity would ever appeal to her, but after years spent bouncing from one danger to the next and nearly losing Fitz one too many times, she was ready for it, and Fitz seemed just as eager for a change of pace.

They woke up at a reasonable hour, had breakfast, then showered and got ready for whatever the day had in store for them. Sometimes it was a trip to the city for their counseling sessions and some shopping; sometimes they stuck to the village and went to the pub for an afternoon lunch of fish and chips while Fitz groused at whatever footie match was on the telly. The bulk of their days was spent on their cottage remodel. But sometimes, they stayed at home and simply relaxed, catching up on science articles on their tablets and calling the team to say hello whenever the time difference permitted. They missed their found family every day, but not as much as they were glad for the chance to live their lives out together, happy and _safe_.

In the evenings, they made dinner together, did the dishes, and usually capped their nights with a mug of tea and more reading, or talking. They talked about a lot of things: their past and hurts that had perhaps not quite mended, their hopes and dreams for their future and where they wanted to go, the readings they both had done, their progress on the cottage, the flowers Jemma had seen for sale at the market in the village that afternoon.

Sometimes, they even talked about the time he had missed.

Jemma was always hesitant to broach it, not wanting Fitz to feel like he was standing in the shadow of a ghost, but Fitz gently insisted, saying he wanted her to feel like she could always be honest and open with him, and not have to hide anything--and that included the weeks he hadn’t lived with her. Those conversations came in fits and starts, but eventually Jemma was able to talk about the Fitz who had died without her heart feeling like it was constricting painfully in her chest, and Fitz himself stopped going very quiet whenever he was mentioned.

Overall, their life had become so quiet and peaceful and _ordinary_ that Jemma found it almost breathtaking. They went to the shops and watched telly and discussed the weather. They turned their battered old cottage into a lovely, inviting home. That didn’t mean they gave up all the things that had made them FitzSimmons in the first place--they still bickered over mundane things, debated the scientific articles they read, and couldn’t agree on the best way to make an addition to the house for a little private lab--but everything was gentler now, calmer. She hadn’t been sure they could actually acclimate to life away from the pressures of saving the world at first, but she was so glad they had. And that meant that maybe they were ready for other changes in their lives, some of which came a little sooner than expected.

One hot day in late August, Fitz was working in the kitchen while Jemma was upstairs, ostensibly sorting their laundry, but was instead huddled in their bathroom. She couldn’t stop staring at the three little plastic tests lined up on the vanity, each one showing the same result. Butterflies had erupted in her chest, along with a faint sense of nerves, but she was sure Fitz would share in her excitement. She’d repeated her desire to start a family with him in her new wedding vows, and they’d broached the subject a few times during their late-night discussions.

She’d been aware of the symptoms, had known what they might have meant, but managed to keep most of them from Fitz; he thought she was just a little under the weather. She didn’t want to tell him until she was one hundred percent sure. So when the time for her monthly cycle came and went, on one of their trips into the village she snuck off to the pharmacy while he was at the hardware store and picked up some pregnancy tests. And now here they were, all saying positive.

Jemma went downstairs, giddy anticipation twining through her, and headed for the kitchen. There, music was playing from Fitz’s phone, which was sitting on the table, and the man himself was hard at work laying a subway tile backsplash beneath their cabinets. He looked up as she came in, tossing her a smile before going back to what he was doing. “Get the laundry sorted already?” he asked.

She tried and failed to bite back a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Ah, okay.” She watched as he lined up another strip of tile on the mortar he’d applied to the wall. “Did you need something from the fridge? Because--I can get out of the way for a second--” He glanced back at her again, fingers still pressing the tile to the wall, and attempted to shuffle his feet away from the refrigerator.

Jemma laughed lightly as she sat down at the table. “No, I’m fine. I know you’re busy, keep working.”

Fitz shot her a bemused look over his shoulder as he picked up his trowel and the bucket of mortar. Jemma leaned back in her seat to watch him--she knew she couldn’t interrupt him while he was working with the mortar or else it would set in the bucket, and what she had to tell him would certainly distract him. But he was almost done, and it was nice to see him like that, wearing a plain white tee and the slacks he reserved for more labor-intensive work days around the house, a faint sheen of sweat visible on his brow. More than anything, it was good to see him focused on a job while looking mostly happy and carefree at the same time.

When he finally finished the last section of tile, Fitz went to the sink to wash his hands, then reached for a bottle of water that was sitting half-finished on the countertop. “So, did you actually want something or did you just come down here to stare at my arse?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “Because you’ve got that look.”

Jemma’s heart pulsed warmly to see him look so relaxed, and swallowed down an instinctive comeback about his arse (which was really quite well-formed, in her opinion). Instead, she just smiled at him and stood from her seat. “Remember how, when we were looking at cottages, we bought this one because of the extra bedrooms?”

Fitz took a swig from his water bottle. “Mmmhmm,” he said, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth and twisting the lid back on.

“Well…” She slowly crossed the distance between them, the smile on her face growing. “We’re going to be able to put one of them to use a little sooner than we thought.”

For a long second, Fitz just stared at her, his eyes flitting back and forth between her smile and her own eyes, searching her face. Then they dropped down to her stomach, and Jemma could see the exact second the realization hit him: his tiny intake of breath, the widening of his eyes. They snapped back up to hers, and he breathed, “Jemma--you’re--?”

She simply nodded, feeling her smile split her face as joy bubbled up inside her chest.

“Oh my god-- _Jemma_ \--” Fitz dropped the water bottle to the floor and scooped her up into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face in her neck as he let out a delighted laugh. Jemma wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, thrilled beyond measure that he was excited, not that she’d had any doubt.

Letting go of her, Fitz stepped back just far enough to look her over, his hands hovering near her stomach and his face positively lit from within. “So--are--are you sure?” he asked, looking nervous and gobsmacked and overjoyed all at once.

Jemma beamed up at him. “My missed cycle and the three positive tests upstairs all agree, yes, but I can visit a doctor if you like.”

Fitz shook his head. “No, no, I trust your results, it’s just…” His expression took on a healthy hint of awe and wonder. “You’re _pregnant_.” Before she could reply, he swept in to capture her mouth with his, wrapping his arms around her and mumbling something that sounded a lot like “a _baby_ ” in between fervent kisses. Jemma drank him in, effervescent and weightless in the moment, not even minding that he was a little grungy from his work--especially when his kisses turned more heated and firm. But she began giggling when Fitz started moving them out of the kitchen without pulling his lips away from hers.

“Fitz! Fitz, wait,” she laughed against his mouth, putting up the weakest of protests. “You need to dispose of the mortar before it sets in the bucket.”

“Oh, forget the bucket.” Fitz steered her toward the stairs as his mouth found the corner of her jaw. “My brilliant, smashingly beautiful wife just told me I’m going to be a father. It can wait.”

And as Fitz took her upstairs to their bedroom and proceeded to make thoroughly tender and passionate love to her, Jemma decided that yes, the mortar and the rest of the kitchen _and_ the laundry could wait.

-:-

“Do you ever miss him?”

It was late at night and they were huddled beneath the blankets of their bed, trying to sleep while a howling snowstorm raged outside. Fitz was spooned around her back, his arm snug over her waist, and he spoke so softly that his voice might have been lost to the whistling of the wind beyond the window if the warm puff of his breath on the back of her neck hadn’t given him away.

She stirred slightly. “Hmm?”

There was a pause before he spoke again. “Do you ever miss him?” he asked again, still quiet. “You know... the other me. _Him_.”

Jemma blinked. “What-- _Fitz_.” She rolled onto her back so she could look up at him. His face was barely visible in the darkness, but she could just make out the crease between his eyebrows that meant he was frowning. “That’s a silly thing to ask,” she said. “That’s like--asking if I miss _you_ , which I don’t, because you’re right here. You’re the same person, Fitz.”

“No, I know,” he replied. “I just can’t help but wonder sometimes if... you ever wished things had gone differently.”

She started to spill out her automatic answer of _of course not_ but something about the way he ducked his head, even in the dark, made her take pause and reconsider. “I did, at first,” she said at length. “I did. Losing you was…” She sighed. “More painful than I will ever know how to put into words.”  

Beneath the blankets, his hand found hers and squeezed it.

“But once I realized that _you_ were still alive, I told myself I had to put it all behind me,” she continued. “Yes, I thought of him a lot while we were searching for you and sometimes I wished he’d never died, but then I’d think of you, all alone in a future where no one was waiting for you, and I couldn’t bear it. Once we found you, my focus has been on the present. With you. With our family.” She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach, his palm curving over the gentle swell of it and the life growing within. “I’ll always remember the time I had with the Fitz that I married first, but my life now is with _you._ All I need is you.”

Fitz leaned down to nuzzle his nose against hers, until he found her mouth and claimed it in a soft, sweet kiss. “Thanks,” he whispered against her lips, his voice a little rough. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Jemma reached up to skim her fingers through his hair. “What brought this on?”

He shrugged lamely. “You’ve told me about all these things I did. Some daring heroic rescue I pulled off for you and Daisy, a shootout with robots, _actually_ jumping out of a plane with you... and I think the bravest thing I’ve done here is use those hedge clippers you bought. I don’t know... I just feel incredibly boring in comparison sometimes.” In the dark, she could see his mouth twist in a wry smile. “Is it bad of me that I kind of want to prove that I could do all of those things for you?”

Jemma smiled as she breathed out a quiet laugh. “No, not really. But I already know you can do those things, because you _have._ And honestly, I’m very happy that you aren’t in a position to prove it now. I like knowing that your life isn’t constantly at risk anymore.”

“Likewise.” He kissed her again, his hand rubbing gently over her swollen stomach. She sighed contentedly and carefully rolled back onto her side.

“You really are a menace with those clippers,” she said as she settled back against his chest, his arm wrapping securely over her.

Fitz laughed. “I know. I’ll do better next time.”

“Good,” Jemma murmured, and as she let the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of Fitz’s body pressed so close to hers ward away the chill of the storm outside, she found herself grateful again for their second chance, for the opportunity to even have a late-night discussion in bed about insecurities, and for the promise of a new beginning that was growing inside of her, just beneath where her fingers were tangled with his.

-:-

If Jemma thought Fitz was doting as a husband, he was even more so as an expectant father. He was always there to help: bringing her crackers and ginger ale when she felt ill, rubbing her back, taking over the bulk of the cooking duties when the smell of raw meat threatened to turn her stomach. He indulged her food cravings and was patient with her mood swings, whether they were teary or irritable. He watched as she bought book after book on prenatal care and what to expect from newborns, and meticulously tracked their baby’s growth through the months.

And he never complained. He helped decorate the nursery in sunny yellows and bright greens, he didn’t grumble when she tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning because she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in, and he didn’t get (too) offended when the assembly instructions for the crib proved to be too much of an enigma for an accomplished engineer like himself and she laughed. If anything, he took to impending fatherhood extremely well, something which Jemma found very attractive, and also reassuring. She knew he’d had reservations, fears over his ability to be a good father due to his experiences with his own, both in the real world and in the Framework. She tried her best to relieve him of those worries, telling him he was already a better father than his could ever hope to be, and they hadn’t even met their child yet. His enthusiasm in preparing for the baby’s arrival was proof of that.

Fitz was the best support she could have asked for during her pregnancy, right up to the very end, when he stayed with her through her long, difficult labor. She’d received medication that had numbed the pain, but Jemma had lost track of the hours and now her entire world had narrowed down to raw exhaustion and the feeling of Fitz’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

“You’re doing great, Jemma,” he said as she collapsed back against the pillows, breathing hard. “You’re almost there.”

She closed her eyes, blocking out the sounds of everyone else in the room, feeling weariness permeate every inch of her bones. She didn’t know how long she’d been pushing now, just that it felt like ages, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. All she wanted was for everything to be over so she could hold her daughter.

Fitz smoothed her hair back from her face, murmuring soothing words against her crown, and a dim, faraway part of Jemma was surprised that he had chosen to stay with her. He had always been squeamish, electing to stay well on his side of the lab whenever she had to do dissections or anything involving guts, and she knew that what was currently happening on the far end of the bed was, well, gutsy. She also knew that her mother would have stayed with her if she’d asked; even Fitz’s mum would have. But she was very glad that Fitz had stayed, because she wanted him with her for this, and deep down she knew he would brave any discomfort because he wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.

On the other side of the bed, one of the nurses said something to her. Jemma opened her eyes, and saw that the woman was giving her the sign to push. Jemma reached for the bars on either side of the bed and tried to pull herself up, but her arms shook and she sank weakly back onto the pillows. “I can’t,” she gasped, near tears. “I’m too... I’m too tired.”

“Yes, you can,” Fitz murmured against her temple. “You can do anything. Come on.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her back as he helped her sit up. “Just one more push, they said. You can do it.”

He held her steady as she took hold of the bars again, arms trembling, and tensed her body as much as she was able. Fitz kept whispering encouragements to her, telling her how strong she was, how amazing she was. Just when Jemma felt like she was about to break, she heard the doctor say “she’s out” and a high, thin wail cut through the air.

All of her breath left her in a whoosh, and she went limp in Fitz’s arms as a mixture of elation and relief rushed through her. He carefully leaned her back against the pillows, pressing kisses to her forehead and cheek. “You did it,” he was saying, sounding amazed. “You did it. You’re incredible.”

Everything faded away then except for the fatigue and Fitz and his arm around her, until a few moments later when a nurse brought the baby to them, squirming and pink, and laid her on Jemma’s chest.

The second Jemma laid eyes on her daughter, her breath was stolen away, overwhelmed with the love she felt for the tiny human in her arms. She glanced up to find Fitz staring down at her, just as transfixed, tears in his eyes. “She’s perfect,” she whispered.

“She’s beautiful,” Fitz agreed, his voice thick. “Just like her mum.”

She breathed out a watery laugh, feeling her heart expand. “Fitz, you can’t possibly tell which one of us she looks like already.”

He made a mild noise of disagreement, tracing a finger over their daughter’s dark, downy hair. “Sure I can. She looks like you. For the best, really.”

She laughed again and leaned her head against Fitz’s chest, taking in every little detail of their baby: the brush of her eyelashes against her cheek, the pink rosebud of her mouth, her five tiny little fingers wrapped around Jemma’s larger one. “No, I think she has your nose,” she said, feeling utterly at peace.

One of the nurses came back to take their daughter to get properly cleaned and weighed, and after that it was all a blur of tests and feeding and visitors, Jemma’s parents and Fitz’s mum all coming to fawn over their new grandchild. It was later in the evening, after everyone else had left and Jemma was dozing with her daughter in her arms while Fitz sat up on the bed next to them, watching them, that they received more visitors. There was a soft knock on the door, and both Jemma and Fitz looked up to see May cracking the door open. Fitz’s face broke out into a smile and she pushed the door open wider to come in, followed by Mack.

“We got your call,” May said quietly. “We came as soon as we could.” She looked down at the sleeping baby and smiled softly. “Congratulations.”

Fitz beamed, looking every inch the proud new father, and rubbed his thumb over Jemma’s shoulder. “Can’t believe she’s finally here.”

Mack crossed his arms, smiling too as he looked down at them. “Did you decide on a name for her?”

“Haven’t quite decided yet,” Jemma murmured, watching her daughter as she whuffled slightly before going still again. “But I think we’re almost there.” She’d had perhaps an irrational amount of anxiety over choosing a name for their daughter. She’d never asked Deke what his mother’s name was, thinking the less she knew, the better, but she regretted not knowing now. A part of her wanted to preserve that legacy somehow, in the hopes that someday another version of Deke might exist to grow up on an Earth that was green and whole. She was happy with the name she and Fitz were sure they had settled on, but a small part of her longed to see Deke’s reaction, to know if they had chosen correctly.

Looking up at Mack and May, Jemma nodded down at her daughter. “Would either of you like to hold her?”

Mack hesitated, but May stepped forward, holding out her arms. Jemma sat up a little to help make the transfer, and May carefully took the sleeping baby into her arms, cradling her head in one hand with ease. Jemma raised a slight eyebrow at how comfortable May looked holding a baby, but decided not to question it. Instead, she just enjoyed the sight, relaxing back into the crook of Fitz’s shoulder as May gently rocked their daughter. They were silent for a moment, until Fitz said, “I just wish Coulson were here to see this.”

May nodded as she continued to watch the baby sleep, her expression taking on a bittersweet tone. “I know. I do too. She’d have him wrapped around her finger in no time.”

Mack laughed quietly. “Yeah, I can see it.”

They stayed for a little while longer, talking about their plans for the baby once they were released to go home, until May decided it was time to hand her back over to her mother. Both May and Mack gave Fitz a hug and promised to call later, once they were settled back in at the cottage. Then they left, leaving the door cracked behind them. They’d only been gone for a moment when another face appeared, quietly pushing it open and looking in. It was Daisy.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice down too. “I know you both are probably ready to pass out, but--I just wanted to come say hi. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Jemma said, giving her a warm smile.

Daisy came in and carefully shut the door behind her before turning to them, looking a little hesitant. Then her eyes fell on the baby and her face softened. “Oh my god,” she breathed, taking a few steps forward. “She’s _beautiful_. Jemma, she looks just like you.”

Jemma looked up to find Fitz grinning at her, looking very pleased and smug. “See?” he said. “What did I tell you?”

At Daisy’s questioning look, Jemma rolled her eyes and explained, “Fitz took one look at her and said she looked like me. She’s only a few hours old, it’s too early to tell.”

Daisy shook her head. “Sorry, I’m with Fitz on this one. She looks like you.” She smiled at the baby for another moment before saying “oh!” and straightening. She pulled something from the pocket of her jacket and handed it across the bed to Fitz. “I got her something. Well, _we_ got her something. We didn’t want to bury you guys in presents, so it’s from all of us.”

Fitz took the plush monkey from her, holding out its limbs in his hands and running a finger over the embroidered eyes and mouth. “Oh, her first monkey,” he said, sounding oddly choked up. He looked up at her and smiled. “Thanks, Daisy.”

Daisy stared back at him, a smile frozen on her face, and Jemma was suddenly alarmed to see that tears were in her eyes.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered, looking away. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.”

Fitz glanced down at Jemma, concerned, then looked back to Daisy. “Daisy--”

She shook her head before looking back up at him. “No--just--this was all I wanted for you guys. Your happy ending. The house, the picket fence, the kid. After all the crap you two have been through just to be together, I wanted you to have this. And then you--” She gestured at Fitz. “You died, and I was still mad. We never had a chance to…” She waved her hands vaguely between them. “And then Jemma brought you back and I was _still_ mad, but... I still wanted you to have your happily ever after. And look. You’re married and you have a _house_ and a beautiful little baby daughter. You got a second chance. And... and what I’m saying is, I want one, too. Maybe it’s selfish, but... I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.”

Looking up at Fitz, Jemma saw that he was blinking rapidly. “Daisy,” he mumbled, but Daisy was already moving around the bed toward him. He opened his arms to her and she crashed in, her tears running over as she buried her face in his shoulder. Jemma found herself blinking back her own tears, and as Fitz wrapped his arms around Daisy and quietly shushed her, running a hand up and down her back, Jemma considered that she had been witness to two miracles that day: the birth of her daughter, and the mending of a friendship that she’d feared was fractured forever.

-:-

Jemma was slow to move when their daughter’s cries woke her up one night, warm and ensconced in her bed as she was--perhaps a little _too_ slow, because a moment later she felt Fitz pull away to sit up. “I’ll get her,” he mumbled blearily.

Guilt bloomed in her chest, and she struggled to open her eyes and push the blankets back. “No, no, I’ll get her--”

“Shh.” Fitz’s hand found her shoulder and gently pushed her back down to the mattress. “I’ve got this, promise. Go back to sleep.” When she resisted, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Sleep,” he insisted. Then he stood up, stretched, and opened the door to go down the hall to the nursery.

Jemma relaxed back beneath the blankets and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the baby’s cries and Fitz’s muted voice as he spoke to her. A few minutes passed and the crying didn’t stop, but did quieten. Footsteps came back down the hall, along with the sound of the baby’s whimpering, and for a second she thought Fitz would bring their daughter into the bedroom. But then she heard the sound of the stairs creaking, and everything went quiet.

She laid in bed for a few more minutes, trying to fall back asleep in vain, before deciding to get up. She tiptoed downstairs as quietly as she could, not wanting a misplaced foot on the stairs to disturb the baby if Fitz had managed to calm her, and checked the living room as soon as she reached the ground level.

In the dim light coming from the kitchen, she found Fitz sitting on one end of the sofa, head tipped back against the cushion and eyes closed. Their daughter was nestled in the crook of his elbow, contentedly sucking on a bottle that was loosely held in her father’s hand. Smiling at the picture they presented, she crept forward until she could carefully sit down beside him.

“I told you I’d take care of her,” he murmured, without moving or opening his eyes.

Jemma’s smile widened a little as she curled up against his side and rested her cheek on his shoulder, seeking out his warmth. “I know,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well. I’m glad for the company.”

She watched their daughter for a minute in the near-dark. “Had a hard time getting her to settle?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Fitz finally lifted his head. “Oh. Yeah. Well, changed her nappy and she was still fussy, so I figured--hungry.” He nodded down at where she was drinking away. “Seems I was right.”

Jemma lightly poked him in the side. “She might look like me, but her appetite is all you. 3AM feedings? That is definitely you.”

Fitz’s face cracked into a smile as he let his head fall back to the cushion. “Yeah, yeah.” Then he paused and frowned before rolling his head to look at her. “You’re having trouble sleeping? I thought, as much as you’ve been up with her, you’d drop off as soon as your head hit the pillow.”

She shrugged lightly. “It’s hard to sleep without you next to me.” And that was true. Once she’d become used to sharing a bed with him, it was difficult for her to find rest without him. The nights he’d spent away from her in isolation at the Lighthouse and the months they’d spent searching for him in space hadn’t been easy.

She thought that might get a smile out of him, but he only frowned deeper. “I--I’m a little worried, Jemma,” he said. “I know you’ve been handling the main load of the baby duties since I’ve been trying to finish up the lab. I’m so sorry. I swear, as soon as I’m done I’ll start pulling my fair weight and you won’t--”

Jemma leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, effectively cutting him off. He blinked at her, and she smiled at him as she sank back down next to him.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “This is all just part of it. I’m doing fine. _You’re_ doing fine. You watched her while I went to the village this afternoon, and then you helped me out this evening by making dinner. I’m fully satisfied with your engagement level as both a husband and a father.”

The corner of Fitz’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah?”

He was adorable when he made that face. She leaned up again to nuzzle her nose against his. “Yeah.” Then she kissed him again, slow and sweet, savoring the chance to feel the soft press of his lips against hers. It wasn’t something they found a lot of time for anymore.

It spun out for a lovely, extended moment until they were interrupted by the sound of a quiet but emphatic burp. Fitz broke the kiss with a laugh, and they both looked down to see their daughter batting her tiny fists against an empty bottle.

“Looks like someone’s finished,” he said, plucking the bottle from her grasp and handing it to Jemma. Then he lifted their daughter up to settle her against his shoulder. “Come on, let’s see about getting you settled so your poor mum and dad can sleep.”

Jemma went to the kitchen to wash out the bottle and set it aside to dry; then she came and leaned against the entry to watch as Fitz paced slowly back and forth in front of the fireplace, gently patting their daughter’s back and murmuring calming, soothing words to her in a quiet voice. He glanced up at her as he walked, and the way he smiled warmed her to the core. Seeing him take care of their daughter, so naturally and tenderly, never failed to make her feel like she could burn up from the inside out with love for them both.

Once it looked like she was asleep, they both went upstairs to take her back to the nursery. Jemma pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head before Fitz gently laid her down in her crib. They watched her for a moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breathing, until they were sure she was fast asleep. Then they went as quietly as they could back to their own bedroom.

“3:30,” Fitz said, reading the alarm clock on his side of the bed as they both slid back beneath the covers. “Well, she should be good for a few more hours at least.”

“At least,” Jemma agreed with a sigh, immediately reaching out to find his hand so she could pull him up against her, his front snug to her back and his arm settled over her waist. She tangled their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze. “But she’s worth it.”

Fitz sighed too as he got comfortable, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. “Yeah, she is.” He fell silent for a moment, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand. “So you’re happy?”

She heard the slight catch in his voice that meant his question went beyond the superficial. It had been a long time since Fitz had given any indication that he doubted his place in her life, but she knew that some wounds and insecurities ran deep, and she was willing to be patient and reassure him for the rest of her life if need be.

She squeezed his hand again. “I’m very happy,” she told him. “Half past three in the morning, no sleep thanks to our daughter, definitely will need a strong cup of tea with breakfast? Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Fitz hugged her a little closer. “Me too,” he murmured into her hair. “Never thought we’d get this far.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Feels like a dream.”

“But it’s real.” Jemma brought their joined hands up so she could kiss his knuckles. “This is the life I wanted for us. A home, safety, happiness... building a family. With you. I couldn’t be happier with what I’ve been given.”

It was Fitz’s turn to squeeze her hand. “I love you,” he said, kissing the back of her shoulder. “So much.”

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

As they both sighed in contentment and relaxed into the sheets, Jemma considered just how perfectly things had worked out. As painful and gut-wrenching as her grief had been, perhaps the universe had its reasons for working the way it did; perhaps they weren’t cursed. Maybe they were still stronger, like Fitz had once confessed he’d told her, in front of a window looking out onto the ruins of their planet. Maybe she’d needed to lose one Fitz in order to save another. She would always remember the Fitz who had so daringly rescued her from an alien despot and stopped the end of the world with her, but now she had this Fitz--who had married her in front of her family, who she was building a future with. She knew the universe had granted her the rarest of gifts--a second chance--and she didn’t intend on wasting the opportunity. She would make sure that Fitz knew every day that _he_ was the one she loved, he was the one she chose, and he could see it every day in the face of their beautiful baby daughter. And she hoped that, somewhere, another Fitz was smiling down on them and thinking _well done, you._


End file.
